


Beyond the End

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Drama/Romance, M/M, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 05:44:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/794540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four years after being stranded in the jungles of Peru, James Ellison must come to the rescue of a pair of stranded anthropologists.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beyond the End

(Standard, all-purpose disclaimer) All pre-existing characters are the property of the creators and producers of "The Sentinel." No copyright infringement is intended. All new characters and situations are the sole property and responsibility of the author. 

An AU "sequel" to "In the Jungle. 

WARNING: Rated NC-17 for m/m sexual content and rough language. Violence and attempted rape. 

##  Beyond The End

by Katrina Bowen  


*Shit.* Something bites me on the back of my neck, and it starts to itch right away. I want to scratch it but that's a little hard to do with my hands tied behind my back. I can't do anything about the insect bites, just like I can't do anything about the sweat pouring into my eyes, or about my hair falling all over the place, or about being scared to death. 

Trying to be discreet about it, I lean forward a little to catch Dr. Vaughan's attention. Doesn't work. He's staring around at the people surrounding us, speaking every language he knows, but none of them react to anything he says. He tries to rise off his knees -- I guess he's planning on launching into his "God's Gift to Academia" act -- but one of the warriors levels a spear directly at his throat. Looks like he's not impressed. Vaughan has the sense to settle back slowly, and the spear is withdrawn. I start breathing again. Welcome to the wonderful world of field anthropology, Sandburg. 

I can't believe how soon this trip went bad. First of all, Vaughan convinced the pilot to ignore the flight plan so we could fly over one of his old sites. I thought it was a bad idea, but why should they listen to me? We were only a couple hours out of Lima when the pilot said he was having engine trouble, and his radio wasn't working, and he was setting the plane down. Well, he set us down, the idiot, right in the middle of the jungle. We all stumbled out of the plane. Vaughan was the first to see the warriors. He stepped up to them, started talking -- he seemed almost offended when he found out he didn't speak their language. Me, I just froze. 

As for the pilot, he took off into the jungle the minute he saw the spears. A few warriors split off from the group and followed him into the undergrowth. I really don't want to know what happened to him. The others brought me and Vaughan to this village, and we've been waiting ever since. 

Not too long ago, all I was worried about was if I'd packed enough bug spray and how I'd keep my research notes from getting mildewed in this jungle air. And -- no sense in kidding myself -- wondering how long Vaughan and I were going to last before we tried to strangle each other. Now, I'm worrying about becoming a shish kebab. Kind of puts it all in perspective. 

Vaughan and I look at each other nervously as the low hum of conversation around us increases in volume. There's some kind of commotion on the outskirts of the group. The focus of everything seems to be one man, a lot taller than the rest of the tribe. I squint, trying to get a good look at him, but the smoke from the fire makes my eyes water. He's gone by the time my vision clears. 

Sighing, I try to relax as much as I can. I keep telling myself that if they didn't kill us right away, they might not kill us at all. I don't quite believe myself. Maybe they're just waiting until morning. Naomi was right, I should have gone on that expedition to Spain. Hang out with the Basques, drive to town on the weekends -- nothing more dangerous to worry about than a herd of angry sheep or the wine going bad. 

But I was stupid enough to be flattered when Vaughan chose me to go along on this trip, over everyone else in the anthro department. Sure, the guy is brilliant, but I never realized what a jerk he was when we were back at Rainier. He barely waited for the airplane to leave the ground before he started bragging about where he'd been published, all his groundbreaking work, how lucky I was to be able to watch him in action. When I was an undergrad, I read a newspaper article on him once, describing him as a cross between Indiana Jones and Margaret Mead. He has this reputation for gaining the trust of the most hostile indigenous peoples. Personally, after spending a few days with him, I started to wonder how accurate the profile was. I was about ready to jump out of the plane just to get away from him... 

I hear someone come to stand behind me. Before I know what's happening, I'm yanked to my feet by two men and marched away from Dr. Vaughan. I hear him protesting, but I'm too startled -- okay, too busy concentrating on not pissing my pants in abject terror -- to pay much attention to what he's saying. 

They take me to a hut set slightly apart from the others and shove me inside. The door is closed behind me. "Uhhh... okay." My voice is shaking. I don't care. "So is this where I find out what's going on?" It's pitch dark in the hut. I take a step forward... and, naturally enough, trip. 

As I stumble, I twist my body around to try to regain some kind of balance. Then strong hands lock around my upper arms and pull me upright again. Not for long. I'm spun around once, twice... when I'm completely disoriented, I'm abruptly released. I feel myself falling backward, and I brace myself for some pretty major pain. 

It doesn't come. Oh, sure, I get the breath knocked out of me, but I fall on something a lot softer than I expected. My relief doesn't last long. Whoever's in the hut with me flips me over onto my stomach, and a large hand comes to rest on the back of my neck. "Hey!" I start to struggle. Then I hear something that stops me. Even though I was raised by a committed pacifist, I recognize the whisper of steel on steel. I'm not all that pleased to have my guess confirmed when something sharp and cold slides down my arm. 

Instead of slicing into my flesh, though, I feel a slight pressure on the rope binding my wrists as the tip of the knife slips under it. Then the man holding me down whispers, "I'm going to set you free. I'm *not* going to hurt you, all right?" 

"Yeah, sure, whatever you say, man -- " Then it dawns on me. His voice is a little rusty and he speaks hesitantly, as if he's almost forgotten the language, but there's no mistaking the accent. This guy's an American. Before I can say anything about it, though (and what's there to say? Am I supposed to break into a chorus of "It's a Small World After All"?), my hands are free and he's helping me sit up. 

"Thanks." But my gratitude doesn't extend to wanting to be close to him, and I start to scoot away. I don't get far before he reaches out and grabs my wrist. It's a little sore from the ropes, and I draw my breath in sharply. 

"I'm sorry." He lets go of me at once. "But they're watching us. We have to be... careful." 

"*Why*?" I sit against the wall and pull my legs up to my chest. This time, he doesn't try to pull me back. "What the fuck is going on here, man?" I try to study his features, but no luck -- I can barely make out his general shape, enough to tell that this is one huge hombre, but that's it. 

Somehow, I get the feeling that he doesn't have as much trouble seeing me. He sighs. "This tribe is under a constant state of siege. You and your friend invaded their territory. You don't belong to a friendly tribe, so you're obviously enemies." 

I freeze. "Where's Dr. Vaughan? They're not -- " I trail off and swallow hard. Not that I like the guy that much or anything, but that doesn't mean I want to see him skinned and turned into belts for the entire tribe. 

"No." He's speaking a little easier now. "He's just locked up. I convinced the elders.... They're not going to kill either of you." 

"Oh. Good." But I don't feel reassured. I start fidgeting with my necklace. It's the one Naomi gave me, the one with the ankh on it. Maybe not what every mother would give her son, but Naomi's never been your typical mother... I realize my thoughts are wandering, and this isn't the best time for spacing off. "So killing us was on the agenda before, but it's not now." 

He hesitates. "No. There was another option. I'm the -- the guardian of this tribe. That gives me certain... privileges. If I claim you, place you under my protection, you and your friend will be safe until I can get you out of here." 

I have a hard time remembering how to speak. When I finally do, I ask, "What does... 'protection' mean, exactly?" He doesn't say anything. I start babbling. "I mean, I think I have a pretty good idea -- it's not like there's not any precedent, there's this bit in Plato's Republic that talks about how the bravest warriors have the right to choose anyone that they want to -- and I can't exactly say that I've never done this before. Well, okay, if you're talking about the situation we're in here, I haven't done *this* --" I remember what the alternative to *this* is, and my throat freezes up again. 

There's a long silence. Then he stands up and steps away from the bed. "No. We can figure something out --" He doesn't finish the thought. 

I try to laugh. It doesn't sound like much. "Come on, man. I know tribal structures. They're not renowned for flexibility. If you break the rules, guardian or not, you'll probably be killed too, right? Or at least in a lot of trouble. As for me... even if they give you a break, they'd have no reason to keep me around, would they?" He doesn't deny it, and I take a deep breath. "Either we do... *this*... or Vaughan and I end up in one of those big cooking pots like you see in cartoons." 

"That won't happen. They don't *have* a big pot." It's not much of a joke and I can't say that it relaxes me much. It helps a little, that's all. He hesitates, then comes back to the bed. He sits down; not next to me, not exactly. But even though the bed is big enough for him, it's by no means huge and I can sense him only a foot or so away. Not much distance between us at all. 

"Does that hurt?" I can't help flinching as he lifts his hand to my cheek. It's tender -- I hadn't even realized I was bruised. Must have happened when we got grabbed. And I still can't figure out why he can see me so much better than I can see him. Maybe I've got hysterical blindness, or at least hysterical near- sightedness. 

Shaking my head, I say, "No, it's fine, I've had worse. I got hit by a baseball once in sixth grade, had a shiner for about a month...." I try to think of something to break the ice, but none of my usual lines really seem appropriate. While my mind is floundering, though, his seems to be moving straight ahead. He moves his hand, brushes my hair out of my eyes. I concentrate on breathing. 

Then I *can't* breathe, because his mouth is covering mine. One hand continues threading through my hair, and the other is resting lightly on the back of my neck. Right on that damn bug bite, but I guess he couldn't be expected to know that. Then that hand starts stroking my back. Incredible. We're in a fuck or die situation, and he's initiating foreplay? Apparently he feels that even though this isn't something either of us really wants, and even though he's probably been stuck with a few extra Y chromosomes, that doesn't mean he can't be a gentleman about it. Maybe he'll give me flowers after *this* is all over. 

He starts unbuttoning my shirt, and I suddenly realize that he's not wearing much in the way of clothes. He is, technically speaking, naked. I still can't see him, but I can feel him. Oh, I can definitely feel him as he pulls me a little closer. Not wanting to make him do all the work, I put my hands on his shoulders. *Big.* Hard, muscled, lean -- God, if he wanted to, he could break me. He could have just pushed me onto the bed, left my hands tied, and gotten it over with. But he explained, and offered to find a way out of it, and -- well, he's trying to make it... not horrible. He's trying to take care of me. 

And I've gone to bed with people for much worse reasons. 

Sliding my hands around his back, I lean into the kiss. I lean into him. He's surprised, I think, but he recovers nicely. His lips are firm and calm against mine. I can feel myself trembling -- I hate to admit it, even to myself, but it's not nearly as much fear anymore as it is arousal. His tongue plays against mine, filling my mouth but not forcing its way in; he's actually letting me set the pace here. Well, I can't say he isn't considerate. Any other time, any other place, and I'd be having the time of my life. 

Pushing my shirt off, he breaks the kiss and lowers me to the bed. I whimper as his teeth scrape lightly across one nipple, then the other. Part of me wants to ask his name, or tell him mine, but the moment for introductions is long past. It might come again later. 

His hands start unfastening my pants. I lift my hips as he slides them down. He has a moment's trouble with my boots, but then they're off -- dimly, I realize that he used the knife to cut the laces. 

I have time to think, "Okay, I'm naked, too. Yippee." Then he's silently urging me to roll over on my stomach. I do it. He stretches out on top of me, but doesn't put any weight on me. I'm lying on some kind of animal skin. It's soft, and thick, and I curl my fingers into it. My heart is pounding so hard that I'm sure it's making the bed shake. He can feel it, too, because he slides a hand under me and presses his palm against my chest. He murmurs something soft and kind-sounding, but I can't decipher the words over the blood roaring in my ears. 

Wriggling against him, I bury my face in the fur. His hand eases down my stomach. My muscles twitch in response, and I groan as he carefully grasps my cock. Somewhere along the line, I got hard. When did *that* happen? 

He pulls his hand away, sits up and straddles my thighs. Rather than -- than *doing* anything, though, he kneels there. I can feel his tension and alertness. Then I understand what caught his attention as I hear the shuffling of feet outside the hut. He was right. They're watching us, making sure we're both playing by the rules. 

I try to stifle it but I feel a sob rising in my throat. He must have heard, because he leans forward and gently kisses the back of my neck, over and over, until I calm myself down a little. I look over my shoulder and nod. "Okay. I'm -- " He kisses me again, barely more than a flick of his tongue against mine. And I give up on speech. 

He straightens up again. I hear him fumbling with something. A single finger, cool and slick, brushes against my anus. I do my best to relax as his other hand clasps my hip, kneading my flesh -- deciding where to hold on, I guess. Then another finger enters me, and I stop worrying about why he's doing anything. I thrust back instinctively, rising to my knees as his fingers start moving slowly inside me, stretching me, preparing me. He adds a third finger. 

As I squirm against him, he reaches around me to fondle my cock again. I can feel his shaft pressing into my leg as his fingers slowly withdraw. Before I can protest, the tip of his cock is inside me. Oh, God. He rotates his hips a little, working into me steadily until I cry out. He stops moving until I buck against him again. Then, with one hard thrust, he's inside me, pushing me flat against the bed. 

I cry out again, but this time he knows I don't want him to stop. My hips start to echo his rhythm as he pounds into me. I feel the fur beneath us grow damp with the sweat pouring off our bodies; my erection had faded when he first entered me, but it comes back as I rub it against the bed. I'm so hard it hurts. It feels wonderful. 

The kisses begin falling on my neck and shoulders again, then turn to nibbles and sucking. A hand snakes around and tweaks my nipple hard, making me groan. I don't know what to react to anymore. He darts his tongue inside my ear, and that's all it takes. Lights explode in my head as I explode, and I try to muffle my scream in the fur. Then he's gripping my shoulders, holding me down as he bites the back of my neck hard. I feel him shudder and tense, and then he's shooting inside me, hot and strong and claiming me as his. 

We stay together for what feels like hours, my sweat drying on his body, his on mine. Finally, I turn my head to the side. He pushes my hair aside and gently kisses my temple. As he withdraws from me, he whispers, "My name is Jim." 

And that's more than I can stand. It makes it too real. He has a name now, so that means that it actually happened, it means that I'm going to have to deal with... *this*.... I feel the tears building again, and I'm too tired to even try to stop them. I wish I was strong enough to get out from under him and run away from here. I wish I had someplace I *could* run to. 

I'm hardly aware of being turned over and lifted for a moment, of the damp fur being pushed away. Then I'm lowered to the bed again, quickly wiped clean and cradled against a broad, smooth chest. Against Jim's chest. I change my mind. The last thing I want right now is to leave this bed, or, worse, to be thrown out of it. If I've got to let myself be used, well, that's one thing. But being used and thrown away... God. What if that's what he has in mind? 

Jim keeps on holding me, making little shushing noises into my hair. I can't decide how much to trust him. I don't want to fall asleep; all the same, I can feel my mind starting to slip away. I jerk myself back into consciousness a few times, but it gets harder and harder to fight. Finally, I just decide to let go.   
  


* * *

I wake up by stages, fighting it all the way. I don't want to be awake yet.... 

Almost clinically, I start the catalogue. There's a stinging pain on the back of my neck from the bite. My wrists are still sore. My lips feel a little tender. And yes, I've definitely been fucked recently. So I guess last night really happened. 

I'm alone in the bed, curled up on my side, facing the wall. A blanket is pulled up to my chin. Even though it's too warm, I'm not about to uncover myself. I stare at the wall. Pretty much your standard construction for this area -- a framework of loosely- woven thin wooden strips. Provides a certain amount of privacy, while at the same time allowing for the air circulation that's so important in this climate -- 

I hear a sound behind me as someone enters the hut. Gee, and I always thought it was a ridiculous exaggeration to say that you could feel your heart stop. Mine does just that. I close my eyes tightly and pretend to be asleep. I don't want to look at him. It's one thing to know his name, but I'm not ready to give him a face yet. 

He -- Jim -- isn't fooled. "Blair?... I brought your gear from the plane. Vaughan told me what was yours. I'm afraid that the plane is beyond repairing -- the radio, too -- but nothing inside was damaged...." He finally trails off, waiting for me to say something, I guess. 

Might as well oblige the man. "You -- " I swallow hard. "You know my name." 

"I... saw your papers." There's a brief silence. "You should eat. There's breakfast outside. Or I could bring you something." I shake my head. There's a longer silence, then I hear him moving away. "When you're ready -- " He breaks off, then continues in a rush, "No one here is going to hurt you. I'm not... I won't...." He hesitates at the door. "I... fixed your bootlaces." Then he's gone, the door closing softly. And I bury my face in my arms. 

I stay like that for a long time, doing my best not to think, not to remember. It doesn't work. No matter how hard I try, I can't stop thinking about the way his lips felt on mine, the way his cock felt in my ass. I can still feel his arms around me, and I remember how he stayed and held me when he would have had every reason to get up and go. 

Why am I reacting this way? It seemed awfully straight-forward last night: have sex with this guy and I get to live. Hell of an incentive. Besides, it's not like I haven't had my share of one night stands. That's how I should classify what happened. That doesn't do a lot of good, though, because every time I stop thinking about last night, I start worrying about what might happen today. 

After all, what do I know about this Jim guy, other than the fact that he's not bad in bed? What's an American doing in the middle of the jungle? Hell, for all I know he's a drug runner or a mercenary or a poacher or a white slaver or -- 

Before I can work myself into a state of complete hysteria -- not that there's too far to go -- Vaughan comes barging into the hut. Thinks he's coming to the rescue, probably. "Sandburg? Come on, we can make a run for it --" He runs over to the bed and grabs my shoulder. 

Keeping my face to the wall, I jerk away. I don't want him touching me. I don't want *anyone* touching me. "No." 

He bends over me. I can feel his breath on the back of my neck as he speaks rapidly. "I know what they did to you last night, I know what you're feeling -- " 

"Oh, I really doubt that." Vaughan's pissing me off. Looks like I'm getting back to normal. "Get out of here. Just -- just leave me alone." 

Ignoring me, he grabs me and tries to turn me over. "Be quiet -- I have to get you out of here before they try and stop us!" 

That does it. Flailing back blindly, I feel my elbow connect solidly with his midsection. Good. As he sits down heavily on the floor, I sit up and glare at him. "Get me out of here? You son of a bitch, you're the one who got me *into* this!" 

The idiot struggles to his feet and reaches for me again. "You're traumatized, you don't know what -- " This time I hit him in the nose. He falls back, stunned. Holding his hand to his face, he says, "For God's sake, calm down, I can get you to safety -- " 

Vaughan freezes as the door opens. There are three people standing there. It's safer for me to look at the smaller two. One's a man, probably my height but a lot bulkier. It's only a guess, but I'd say the feathered collar he's wearing means he's an elder or a chief or something. The second person is a tiny, elderly woman with short gray hair. She looks first at me, then at Vaughan, who's still holding onto his nose. She raises her eyebrows and makes a comment to the first man, who just shrugs in reply. 

Unable to avoid it any longer, I finally make myself look at the third man. At least a full head taller than the other man, the chief. Darkly tanned skin, contrasting sharply with close-cropped light brown hair and clear, pale blue eyes. He's wearing what seem to be some kind of military fatigue trousers and nothing else. So that's what Jim looks like. 

I try to hide it, but I can feel myself starting to shake again. Jim stares at me, then turns to the others. He never even acknowledges Vaughan. There's a brief conversation. Then the two strangers walk out, leaving me alone with Jim and Vaughan. 

Jim spares me only a brief glance as he walks over to Vaughan. Speaking quietly, he says, "I already told you, I can't let you leave." 

Vaughan pulls himself upright and glares at Jim. He clenches his fists. Oh, swell. Now I've got two alpha males fighting over me. Every boy anthropologist's dream. They're about the same height, but not only does Jim have a good twenty pounds on the professor, Vaughan's spent the past few years on the lecture circuit. I guess Vaughan realizes that, because he chooses another way to attack. Waving a hand at me, he sneers, "Why? Protecting your property?" And any regrets I might have felt about punching him fly out of my head. I'm so humiliated -- so *furious* -- that I literally can't see straight. 

Jim stiffens. A muscle in his jaw starts to twitch. Through his teeth, he says, "We're about fifty miles from anything that can be loosely called civilization. There are about ten unfriendly tribes between here and there. I can't spare any warriors right now to escort you to safety. If you want to live, you'll stay here with the Direma." 

"I'll take my chances, Ellison." Vaughan points at me again. "And so will Sandburg." 

"The hell I will!" It's hard to say whether Vaughan or Jim is more shocked when I finally speak up. *I'm* pretty shocked. Taking a deep breath, I look at Jim. "You told me... if we stay here, nothing will happen to us?" I want to add, "Nothing will happen to *me*", but I don't want to say that in front of Vaughan. 

Jim seems to hear it anyway. He nods, just once. "I promise." 

"Do you?" I stare into his eyes, then look at Vaughan. "How about you? Do you know which direction we should head? What are you going to do if we run into another hostile tribe?" 

"I guess I can always trade my ass, the way you did." He stalks out. I just keep on staring at the spot he was standing in. I can't seem to make myself move. 

I'm vaguely aware of Jim folding my fingers around a wooden cup. I hear him telling me to drink it. I haven't got any better ideas, so I do. It's water. Only water. I guess he's not about to drug me or anything, it's not like he'd *have* to.... 

Sighing, Jim pulls a stool up to the foot of the bed. He sits down, well out of reach. 

Waiting until I decide that my voice won't tremble too badly, I say, "So. What are the ground rules here? I still... belong to you?" 

Jim stares out the window. "As far as the rest of the tribe is concerned... yes." I feel like all the blood is draining out of my body. I'm not aware of making a noise, but he looks at me sharply. "As far as *they're* concerned. I'm not -- expecting anything out of you. I give you my word, I'll never make you do anything you don't want to. You'll have to stay here with me, in my hut, but that's all." 

"Oh." I try to make sense out of this. "So they'll think we're sleeping togther. What about Vaughan?" 

"He'll sleep in the men's house. There are always sentries posted all around the village -- I've told them not to let him leave. It's too dangerous in the jungle, even if he *is* some kind of explorer. He can come and go in the village as he chooses. So can you." 

I put the cup down beside the bed. Pulling my knees up to my chest and wrapping my arms around them, I say, "As long as we don't try to leave." 

"I'm afraid so." He stands up but doesn't come any closer to me. "Do you want me to bring you something to eat?" 

"Not really." 

"Blair, you have to eat -- " 

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Rubbing my hands over my face, I lean against the wall. "I don't -- I can't right now." 

Jim pauses, then nods reluctantly. "All right. I'll be back in a while to check on you." He heads for the door. 

"Jim?" My voice is barely a whisper, but he turns around as soon as I speak. I think we realize at the same moment that this is the first time I've said his name out loud. I keep my eyes on the floor as I ask, "Would it sound too weird if I said 'thank you'? I mean, for saving my life and everything." 

He stares at me. When he speaks, there's only the barest ghost of a smile in his voice. "Would it sound too weird if I said, 'I'm sorry'?" 

"Yeah. So I guess we'd better not say it, huh." 

He opens the door. "Yeah. I guess we'd better not." He closes the door gently as he leaves me alone with my thoughts.   
  


* * *

I suppose I *should* say that the next few days are the hardest of my entire life. I can't really see it that way. This situation, this new world that I'm in, is so far removed from what I consider my life to be that I can't make myself connect the two. 

The first time I try to venture outside is about an hour after Jim leaves me. I get dressed and stand at the door for an eternity before I push it open a few inches. That's enough to make my heart start beating like a jackhammer, and to send cold sweat pouring down my body. I let the door swing shut as I back up and sit down heavily on the bed. 

Wonderful. Blair Sandburg, this is your new life. Sex slave by night, agoraphobic by day. *That's* going to look great on your transcript. 

I sit like that for hours, lost in thought, racking my brain to remember any reference I might have read about this tribe -- I think Jim called them the Direma -- but I can't come up with anything. Let's look at the bright side. If Vaughan and I really end up spending more than a few weeks here, we might get a hell of a paper out of it.... I jump when the door opens. I don't know if it's Jim or Vaughan, and I'm not up to dealing with either one. 

Instead of either of them, though, it's the old woman from before who's standing in the doorway. She's carrying a bowl. When she sees that I'm watching her, she comes in. 

She places the bowl next to me on the bed. Standing over me, she crosses her arms and waits patiently. I look at the bowl -- it's full of fruit. Even though I know she won't understand me, I say, "I'm not hungry." I hold the bowl out to her. 

Raising an eyebrow, she stares at me with bright black eyes. She's obviously not going anywhere. I try again. "Look, maybe later, okay?" 

The old woman sighs impatiently and shifts her weight from one leg to the other. Her gaze remains locked on mine. I might not know the fine points of their body language, but I know when someone's telling me that they can be just as stubborn as I am. 

Sighing, I pick up a piece of fruit and bite into it. I chew and swallow. "There, are you happy now?" 

Apparently, she is. Pointing to herself, she says something. I frown. She repeats it, more slowly. Frowning, I try to repeat the word. "Chirga?" 

She shakes her head. Speaking even slower and tapping her chest, she says, "Chirigua." 

"Chirigua?" I nod toward her. Is that her name? 

Seems that way, because she smiles and straightens up. "Chirigua." She says something rapidly in her language, nods toward the fruit, and leaves. 

I stare at the door. So now I know somebody's name. It might not be much, but it's a start. I start to shove the fruit aside, but I stop myself. Jim's right. Starving myself won't accomplish anything. Sitting back against the wall, I start eating.   
  


* * *

I gape at Jim, appalled. "You mean they all died?" 

He doesn't look up at me. "Yeah. Five of them in the helicopter crash, two of them after." 

I don't know what to say about that. At least now I know what he's doing in the heart of the jungle. "And no one ever came looking for you?" 

At first I think he's not going to answer. Then he says, "After I'd been here about a year and a half, I heard reports that there were American soldiers in the area. Maybe they were looking for me, maybe not. But the Direma were at war with another tribe, and I couldn't get away in time to meet them. That was over two years ago. I haven't heard anything since." 

"You mean you honestly haven't had any contact with the outside world in what, four years?" I'm appalled on his behalf. What must it have been like for him? For years with no one to talk to.... 

"That's right." 

I look at him. I can't keep the incredulity out of my voice. "Isn't there anything that you miss?" 

Jim finally raises his head. "It doesn't matter whether I miss anything or not. I can't have any of it, so why think about it?" He stops talking. The subject is obviously closed. 

My God. It occurs to me to wonder how he got the Direma to accept him, but I decide that now wouldn't be a good time to ask. I look around the village. "Everyone is staring at me." 

"No, they're not." Jim keeps on fashioning new arrowheads out of the plane's fuselage. As far as Vaughan and I are concerned, the airplane is useless. For the Direma, though, it's a bonanza. They've been stripping it bare all week. 

Vaughan was furious when he found out. When he couldn't make them stop -- when he couldn't even make them understand him -- something seemed to snap inside him. He's spent the past few days on his bed in the men's house, staring into space. I tried to talk to him a few times, but it didn't do any good. The last time I tried, he just told me that while he used whores on occasion, he never spoke with them. After that, I didn't care enough to bother. 

I pick up one of the completed arrows and look at it. "Trust me, Jim. I know when I'm being stared at." 

Jim shrugs. "They don't see too many strangers," he says awkwardly. Awkward. Yeah, that pretty much sums it up. Since that first night, Jim's been careful. He doesn't touch me, barely even looks at me. He even offered to sleep on the floor. It took a lot of talking for me to convince him that it'd kind of defeat the purpose of the whole set-up if the Direma were to figure out that he's not sleeping with me. 

So we sleep together. Or, more accurately, Jim waits until I'm asleep before he lies down beside me, and he's gone by the time I wake up. Like I said, it's awkward. 

I look up as Chirigua leaves her hut and walks to the far end of the village. She's the only member of the tribe who isn't giving me a wide berth -- in fact, she seems to think that it's her mission to make sure that I'm eating, and she's been teaching me the rudiments of the Direma language. Jim tells me that she's an herbalist, a healer. He doesn't say so, but I'm starting to suspect that she was the one who helped Jim convince the elders not to kill me and Vaughan. She and Jim seem pretty close. Like most of the tribe, he calls her "grandmother." She hasn't invited me to call her that, though, and I don't want to push my luck. 

There's a group of young women -- girls, really -- standing a few huts away. They look at me and Jim and giggle among themselves. Nice to see that teenage girls are the same all over. Not looking at them, I jerk my head in their direction. "Come on. You really think that they're not waiting for us to...." I can't bring myself to say the rest of it out loud. 

"Well...." Jim reaches for another scrap of metal. "Actually, they're not expecting to see us do anything." He finally looks directly at me. A little apologetically, he adds, "I told them that you're -- uh, shy." 

"*Shy*?" Irrationally, I'm offended. "I'm not shy, man." 

He snorts. "Sorry. I thought you'd like it better than the alternative." 

"Oh." I put down the arrow and look at the one he just finished. "Okay, there is that. So what *were* they laughing about?" I'm surprised to see Jim bite back a smile. "Come on, what were they saying?" 

Jim's smile widens. I try not to notice that it's a nice smile. "Let's just say that they're very interested in your hair." 

"My *hair*?" Makes sense, in a way. All the Direma keep their smooth, black hair fairly short, men and women alike. As for Jim's hair, while the color isn't what they're used to, it's probably too short to attract much attention. My hair, though, is long and curly -- it has to look exotic to them. I push it back self- consciously. "Sorry, but I'm not getting rid of it -- what?" 

If anything, Jim's grin gets bigger. "It's not just *that* hair they were talking about." 

It finally dawns on me. I look down at my open shirt, at my chest hair. "Well, I'm definitely not shaving my chest." 

"Damn right. It's hard enough to keep an edge on my razor as it is. Anyway, I think you'd need a machete to get through that." 

"Oh, that's funny." I can't believe we're joking about this, about *anything*, for that matter. "Just because you -- " 

We both look up as Kurali comes up to us. He's the chief elder, the man who came into Jim's hut the first day. Unlike Chirigua, he hasn't shown a lot of interest in me. Okay, he's shown absolutely *no* interest. Looks like that's about to change. 

He says something to Jim, who answers. I can't follow any of the conversation, but it doesn't take a lot of work to figure out that they're talking about me. At one point, Kurali pounds his fist against the door of Jim's hut. There's a symbol carved there, three horizontal lines over a circle. Until now, I haven't cared enough to ask what it means. 

The conversation ends. Looking distinctly unhappy, Kurali walks way. Even though I'm pretty sure I'm not going to like the answer, I ask, "What was all that about?" 

Jim's face closes up. "Nothing." 

"Took you too a long time to talk about nothing." He doesn't answer, and I start to get angry. "Look, man, I'm not in any mood to have something sprung on me. If you guys were talking about me, I think I ought to know what you were saying." 

I can tell Jim's not happy, but after a few moments, he says, "Kurali was saying -- you see that? On the doorpost?" He nods toward the hut. 

"The lines? Yeah, I see them. You're telling me *that's* what you were arguing about?" 

Very levelly, he says, "That's my mark. Kurali says that since you belong to me, you should wear it." 

That doesn't sound good. "You mean 'wear' in what sense, exactly?" 

Jim says what I expect him to. "A tattoo." 

"You're out of your fucking mind." 

"Don't worry, Sandburg. I told him that we've got this custom, we'll have to wait about six months before we have any kind of ceremony. Kurali isn't happy, but he'll wait." Jim turns his attention back to the arrows. 

I try to calm down. So now the Direma think Jim and I are engaged. Oh, this keeps on getting better and better. "Well, Vaughan and I are going to be out of here by the time six months are up, right?" 

"I hope so." 

There's no way I can keep my voice from rising. "You *hope* so?" 

Jim keeps his own voice down, but he's definitely losing patience. "It depends on a lot of things. For all I know, we could be at war any time now. I told you, as soon as it's safe, I'll do everything I can to get you out of here. Him, too." He indicates the men's house. Vaughan is standing in the doorway, watching us. I wonder when Jim noticed him, because I never did. When he realizes he's been spotted, Vaughan goes back inside. 

I guess something crosses my face, because Jim's voice softens a little. "I'm sorry. I know he's making it hard on you." 

I manage a smile. "I think he was expecting to play Great White Explorer. He's used to saving the day and being the hero. Didn't really work out the way he was expecting it to." 

Jim touches my shoulder briefly. "A lot of things don't work out. All you can do is learn to live with what happens." Not giving me time to react, he gathers his arrows, stands, and walks away. I watch him go and wonder what he meant.   
  


* * *

"Good, Lerri." The little girl looks up at me with wide, anxious eyes. "Now take the other one -- no, the one next to it. Yes, that one." Moving cautiously, Lerri pulls her fingers away from mine. She spreads her hands apart, and the string forms a new pattern on her fingers. 

Thrilled, she beams up at me. "It works!" 

Her happiness infects me. "I told you it would." We're sitting outside her family's hut, under an awning to keep the rain off. Her brother is standing a few feet away, pretending he isn't interested in what we're doing. He's almost nine, after all, far too old for children's games. 

Lerri extends her hands to me again. "Show me another." 

"You should say please." But even as I say it, I'm already reaching for the cat's cradle. 

"Please show me another," she says obediently. A shadow falls over me; Lerri stares up, and her face clouds. I don't have to look over my shoulder to see who's standing behind me. 

Sighing, I untangle my fingers and give the string to Lerri. "I'll show you later, all right?" She retreats to her brother's side without a word. Putting his arm around the little girl, he gives Vaughan a distrustful glare as he guides her inside. 

Without looking at Vaughan, I get up. "What do you want?" I glance around the village. Good. People are watching, so I don't have to worry about him trying to drag me off again. 

Vaughan comes around in front of me. I can either look at him or let him think I'm afraid to. I look at him. He's looking more unkempt, more dishevelled -- more insane -- every time I see him. The rain has plastered his dark hair flat against his head. "What does the chief say about letting me go?" 

"Ask him yourself." I know he won't ask, because he can't. It's been almost two months and he hasn't even tried to learn any of the language. This from a man who reputedly became fluent in Tagalog in three weeks flat. I'm far from fluent in Direma -- I stumble over words and my accent makes them smile -- but I can make myself understood. Vaughan can't be bothered to try. I start walking back to Jim's hut. He's not there, but I hope Vaughan will be too uncomfortable to follow me there. 

My plan doesn't work. Falling into step beside me, Vaughan says, "I see you're making yourself pretty for your owner." He lifts a hand to my hair, which I started braiding a few weeks ago. It was the only way I could keep it under any kind of control. 

I dodge his hand. "Leave me alone, okay?" 

Vaughan nods wisely. "Saving yourself for Ellison. It's so nice to see monogamy these days." I don't answer, but he goes on anyway. "I've been wondering. Just what was it that made Ellison decide to choose you? Oh, not that I wish he'd chosen me or anything, but I'm curious. Maybe it was your mouth. He probably got one good look at those lips of yours, wondered what they'd feel like wrapped around his -- " 

Abruptly, I change direction and head for Chirigua's hut instead. She's sitting on a sheltered bench in front, watching me and Vaughan as she ties herbs into bundles for drying. I'm not surprised when Vaughan doesn't follow me. He doesn't want any contact at all with the Direma, and he seems to despise Chirigua in particular. 

Wearily, I sit down next to her. She barely glances at me. "You are troubled." 

I point at the basket sitting by her feet. "Can I help?" Wordlessly, she nudges it over to me. It doesn't take long for us to achieve a system: I give her a handful of herbs, she ties them up and lays them on the bench beside her. Neither of us speaks. The rhythm of our work and the sound of the rain finally starts to ease my mind. 

When we're almost finished, Mura comes over to join us. She's Kurali's daughter -- almost sixteen years old, pregnant, and intensely proud of it. Unlike her father, Mura and I have become friends. Her baby's father, Hamo, wasn't happy about it until Mura very helpfully reminded him that I was Jim's lover, she was his, and she didn't see why any of us should have a problem. After that, Hamo more or less accepted me. I never told Jim about the conversation. We're more comfortable with each other now -- we can even go to bed at the same time -- but there are some things neither of us wants to discuss. 

Lowering herself to the bench, Mura smiles at me. "Tell me another story, Blair." 

I can't help grinning. One day I started telling her about American fashions, and she didn't believe a word of it. So that's what we usually talk about. Sometimes I tell the truth, sometimes I lie through my teeth, and she never believes a word of it. When I told her about high heels, she laughed for an hour. 

"Have I told you that we wear live birds in our hair?" 

Mura shakes her head in mock wonder. "What happens when they want to fly away?" 

"That depends on how large the bird is...." Chirigua gives us both an exasperated look -- she thinks we're far too old for this kind of thing -- and takes the herbs inside. 

Before Mura and I can continue our conversation, a group of hunters comes back into the village. I spot Jim right away, but I'm unnerved when his eyes unerringly meet mine. He always seems to know where to look for me. 

Helping Mura up, we go over to meet them. While she talks to her father and Hamo, Jim pulls me aside. I try not to be too nervous as I ask, "What did you find?" 

"We're going to have to move the tribe further into the jungle." I close my eyes. This is going to delay getting back to the outside world. 

"I'm sorry, Blair." Jim sounds sincerely apologetic. "But the way the logging companies are chipping away the edges of the jungle, all the tribes are moving. The Direma can either stay here and be overrun, or move voluntarily while they have a chance to claim the best territory." 

I open my eyes and look at him. "Yeah. I understand." The hard part is that I *do* understand. Even though Jim's never really explained his position in the tribe, I've figured out that he's some kind of guardian -- I don't think he'd be able to abandon them if they needed help. 

Jim glances over at Kurali. "We don't know when we're going to move. Maybe I can talk the elders into letting me take a few warriors sometime in the next few weeks...." 

I almost say that I don't mind staying, but could he get Vaughan the hell away from me? I stop myself. If I tell Jim about that, I'll have to tell him about the things Vaughan is saying. And I can't bring myself to do that. I don't want things to get any worse than they are. 

"It's okay, Jim." I walk back to his hut, because I don't have anywhere else to go.   
  


* * *

Later that night, I'm almost asleep when I hear Jim say something. "Pancakes." 

I peel one eye open. "Excuse me?" 

Jim sighs, and I begin to think that I misheard him, or he was talking in his sleep or something. Then he says it again, almost reluctantly. "Pancakes. I miss pancakes." 

After a moment's frantic thought, I remember the conversation we had that first week about whether or not he missed anything. Moving carefully, I prop myself up on one elbow and look down at him. There's moonlight coming in through the window and I can see him clearly. He meets my eyes; he's undoubtedly awake, but his face looks so... lost. I'm not really sure how I should handle this. "What kind of pancakes?" 

He answers immediately. "Blueberry. With maple syrup. The real stuff, not fake." He's quiet for a long time, and I begin to think that he's regretting giving me a glimpse of his private self. Then he speaks again. "And hot showers." 

"Toilet paper," I shoot back immediately. 

"Oh, yeah. *Definitely* toilet paper. Basketball." 

I have to contradict him. "Baseball." 

Jim doesn't seem to mind. "Cold beer. Coffee." 

"Compact discs. My *computer,*" I say feelingly. 

He nods and makes an all-encompassing gesture. "Electricity." 

"Talking to someone...." His face goes still when I say that, and I wince. *Good* one, Blair. I just picked the best possible way to cut off whatever was happening between us. 

But then Jim sighs and puts his hands behind his head. He looks up at me. "I'm sorry. I keep forgetting that I've had a few years to get used to this. When my team died -- I suppose I just made myself stop regretting things I couldn't have. Didn't do any good to think about it, so I didn't." He smiles very slightly. "You don't strike me as the kind of person who's very good at not thinking about things, though." 

"What can I say, man? My mother always told me -- " I feel my throat closing up, and I realize that my hand has gone to my ankh. I'm not going to cry in front of him. I'm not going to spoil whatever's going on here. God, if he starts pitying me.... 

"You miss her." There's no pity in Jim's face or voice, only regret and sympathy. 

"Yeah." I lie down again. I almost expect him to move away, but he doesn't. In fact, he rolls over on his side so we're facing each other. 

"Blair -- " He takes a deep breath. Very quietly, he says, "I... hear what Vaughan's been telling you, that I'm refusing to take you two out of the jungle because I want to keep you." I can't stop myself from blushing. God, when did Jim hear that? Vaughan's always been so careful to corner me when Jim's nowhere in earshot.... 

Something is nagging at the back of my mind, about other times Jim's heard and seen things he shouldn't have been able to. It's about something I read a couple years ago, a few references to tribal sentinels... I'll have to talk to him about that later. 

Now, I think we'd better discuss the matter at hand. "Are you? Keeping me here, I mean." 

Jim's body tenses next to me. "Is that what you think?" 

I shake my head. "No." He searches my eyes. I wonder what he's looking for. Whatever it is, he seems to find it, because he slowly relaxes. He tenses again when I carefully lift my hand to his face. He seizes my wrist. "Blair, I just told you that I don't want -- " 

"Maybe *I* want to," I blurt out. I sit up, but keep my hand on his face. I feel the warmth of his skin, the slight prickle of whiskers. I feel the controlled, gentle strength of his hand on my arm. And I'm so *tired* of being alone. 

"You... what?" He's shocked. Completely, utterly caught off guard. That's okay, I kind of surprised myself. 

Not sure of what I'm going to say, I just start talking. "Remember that first day? You told me that you'd never make me do anything I didn't want to." I bend down until my lips are only a few millimeters from his, and I whisper, "I'm going to hold you to that, Jim." 

He gasps as my hair slips over my shoulders, shrouding both our faces. Then I kiss him. I slide my tongue across his lips, teasing and tasting him. He doesn't respond. Just when I think I've made a *major* mistake, his mouth opens to me, and his tongue begins dancing with mine. My cock twitches in reaction. I'm almost dizzy with mingled arousal and relief. 

Jim's hand releases my wrist and travels up the length of my arm, coming to rest on the back of my neck. Moving slowly, he rolls on his back, carrying me with him until I'm lying full length on top of him. I settle myself more comfortably, which, not quite coincidentally, brings our cocks together. Jim groans. His hands slide down my back and come to rest on my ass, bringing me even closer. I finally realize that what I'd interpreted as indifference was really restraint. 

I pull away from Jim's mouth. His almost incoherent plea is cut off when I begin sucking on the side of his neck, right where it curves out to meet his shoulder. "Ohhh, God. Chirigua was right, she told me I was crazy for not sleeping with you...." 

"She knew?" I'm too preoccupied to be more than mildly surprised. Licking a path up to the corner of his jaw, I taste the salt on his skin. It's delicious. 

"Ummmm." Jim grinds his hips against mine, and I become temporarily insane. "She's going to be happy when she finds out." 

"Hope she's not the only one -- " I stop talking as Jim claims my mouth again. I can't wait much longer. I don't want him to have to wait. 

I slip a hand between our bodies to grasp Jim's shaft, slick with both our pre-ejaculate and throbbing. It feels different in my hand than it had in my ass. I don't quite understand how, but this is so much more... intimate. Intense. Personal. 

Jim groans as I start pumping him. His hands tangle in my hair as he thrusts his tongue into my mouth. But right now, for this moment, *I'm* in control and we both know it. 

Then, too soon for both of us, Jim's taut body begins to tremble. He cries out hoarsely as he climaxes, his semen coating both of our bellies. 

Without a word, Jim turns us over until he's on top. He stares down at me, his gaze travelling along my body. His head dips down. Almost reverently, his tongue flicks against my nipple. "Ah, Jim -- oh, God. Please...." 

When he speaks, his voice is a throaty growl. "Tell me what you want me to do." 

I'm breathing in short, harsh pants, and I can barely say a word. But I manage to gasp, "Suck me?" 

He doesn't answer. But a second later, a soft, wet warmth wraps around my aching cock. I moan as the hand remaining on my chest continues playing with my nipple, pinching it lightly, then rolling it between his fingertips. Jim's mouth continues working my shaft. My hips start bucking upwards, and he doesn't do a thing to restrain me. My orgasm almost takes me by surprise. 

Both of us are breathing hard as Jim moves to gather me into his arms. I tell myself that this isn't about forever, or true love, or anything. It's just because we both need someone. Right now, that's enough. I return the embrace, and we fall asleep like that, together.   
  


* * *

Obviously, things change for me and Jim after that. I'm not climbing a tree and screaming, "Hey, we're really lovers now, wanna watch?" or anything, but it'd be impossible to hide what's going on. Jim touches me. A lot. It's nothing blatant, but it's kind of hard to miss. A hand on my shoulder, brushing his fingers against my cheek, pulling me close when we sit by the fire.... The Direma are a little confused at first, but they deal with it. They just seem to assume that I've gotten over my "shyness." 

Vaughan doesn't like it. His comments to me stop, but he's always watching me. Since Jim is almost always with me now, though, he doesn't approach me for a while. 

Things finally come to a head one evening. I'm sitting on the ground in front of Jim's hut, showing Lerri and some of the other children more cat's cradle figures. I haven't bothered to tie my hair back, and it keeps falling into my eyes. 

"You'll go blind that way." Jim leans against the wall of the hut and grins down at me. 

"Hey, my hands are occupied, man. If it bothers you so much, why don't *you* do something about it?" 

Jim doesn't answer, but he sits down on the bench directly behind me. Gathering my hair into his hands, he starts deftly braiding it. He and Kurali are going on a scouting trip in a few days. They might be gone for as long as a few weeks, and I'm surprised to realize that I'm going to miss the intimacy that's grown between us. 

As Jim's fastening the end of my braid, Vaughan saunters over to us. "Oh, my. This *is* domestic." The children quickly disperse. They're all afraid of him. They're not the only ones. 

My first instinct is to get up off the ground, but I change my mind. This is the way things are, and I'm not about to let Vaughan make it into something to be ashamed of. But Jim puts a hand on my shoulder and silently urges me up. I sit down on the bench beside him as Jim says, "You have something to say, Vaughan, say it." 

Rather than answering him, Vaughan looks at me. "Why did you get up? I thought your favorite place was on the ground at Ellison's feet." 

I try to stay calm, but I can feel Jim tense beside me. I don't want him to say anything, because it'll just make the situation worse. "Stop it, okay?" 

Vaughan shrugs. "I guess you were facing the wrong way. So what's the story, Sandburg? You watch too many Tarzan movies as a kid and you always wished you were Jane?" He turns his attention to Jim. "You'll never be able to really keep him, you know. One way or another, you'll lose him." 

Jim surges to his feet, but I grab his arm and hold him back. Vaughan gives us both a cheerful smile and walks away. "Jim, don't." 

He glares down at me. He's plainly furious, and I think if I let him go, he'd follow Vaughan and hurt him, maybe more. And I don't want Jim to do that, not over me. 

But after a minute or so, Jim starts to calm down. He stares in the direction Vaughan went, then down at me. Wordlessly, he takes me inside the hut. 

Before I can say anything, he wraps his arms around my waist and picks me up, lifting me until our heads are level. He kisses me, forcefully but not harshly. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I return the kiss. 

Jim lowers me to the bed. He sits next to me; his face is inscrutable in the dim light. I get the impression that he's listening to something I can't hear. Then he bends down and covers my body with his. Stroking his hands down my sides, he nuzzles the side of my neck. 

I sigh and wriggle against him. "It's all right, Jim, he doesn't bother me." 

"Don't lie to me, Blair." His lips press against my chest, directly above my heart. He murmurs, "I hear the things he says to you. I know how he terrifies you. But you're right, he won't bother you anymore." Then his hand slides down my body, and I forget about Vaughan altogether.   
  


* * *

Early the next morning, Jim and I are awakened by our door opening. I'm more than a little embarrassed to see Kurali standing there... well, at least now he can't doubt that Jim and I are lovers. 

Typically, Kurali speaks to Jim alone. "The other one is gone." 

Jim sits up, carefully easing me off his chest. "I know." Kurali nods and leaves. 

"Who's gone? Who's the other one?" 

Not quite looking at me, Jim says, "Vaughan. He sneaked out of the village last night." He gets out of bed and starts dressing himself. 

It takes me a few moments to catch on. "What? How?" 

Jim shrugs. "A few days ago, I told the sentries not to stop him if he wanted to leave. I guess he finally took advantage of it." 

I stare at him, shocked. "What, so all of a sudden, you think he's capable of handling himself in the jungle?" Jim doesn't answer. "Or do you just not care if he can't handle himself? If he gets his throat ripped out by a panther, it's fine with you?" 

Jim sets his jaw. "He's causing too many problems in the village. He's terrorizing you. We couldn't afford to waste any more of the guard's time in watching over him, Blair." 

"And besides, now you don't have to worry about getting me out of here, right? Now you can keep me here if you want. Tell me something, Jim. If *I* decide to walk out, will the sentries let me go or take me prisoner again?" 

He finally looks at me. "Is that what you think?" I can't read the expression in his eyes. "Well, if you have any intention of following him, forget it." He doesn't wait for an answer before he leaves the hut, slamming the door behind him. 

I sit there alone as my world crumbles around me yet again. 

Jim and I don't speak for the rest of the day. He doesn't come back to the hut that night. When he finally comes the next morning to gather his gear for the scouting trip, I leave and go to Chirigua's hut. I know she's curious about what happened between me and Jim, but she doesn't ask. 

When Jim leaves, I don't say good-bye.   
  


* * *

A few days later, I'm helping Chirigua grind some herbs when she finally gets tired of my sulking. "Do you miss Vaughan?" 

My head jerks up. I'm too shocked to say anything, but I guess she can read the answer on my face. She nods, satisfied. "Jim was afraid that you would go with him." 

Alone with Vaughan in the jungle... the thought makes me sick and weak. "No." 

"Then why are you angry at Jim? If Vaughan frightens you so much...." She waits expectantly. 

Sitting down, I try to explain what I'm feeling, to myself as much as to Chirigua. "He frightens me. But he's insane -- what if he dies out there? How do we know where he went, what happened to him?" 

"We cannot. Before he and Kurali left, Jim listened for Vaughan. He did not hear him." 

Chirigua's words don't make any sense to me. "What do you mean, Jim listened for him? He would have been miles away -- " 

She gives me a pitying look. "That does not matter. Jim can hear a bird landing in a tree on the other side of the mountain. He can see an insect on a leaf at the top of a tree. If there was anything to hear, Jim would have heard it." 

At first, I think she's exaggerating or speaking metaphorically. But then I remember all the times that Jim seemed to be listening to things I couldn't hear... damn, I *knew* I should have talked to him about this earlier, he probably really *is* one of those tribal sentinels that Burton wrote about, that's probably why the Direma accepted him.... 

We both look up as Hamo comes to her hut. She starts to greet him casually; something she sees in his face makes her go very still. "What is wrong?" 

"Nothing, grandmother." He makes his way inside. I notice that he's walking unsteadily and his eyes seem a little unfocused. "I just feel -- " He sags against the table, and I barely manage to catch him before he falls. 

Easing him to the ground, I look up at Chirigua. "What is it?" 

She kneels next to us and puts her hand to his face. "He is ill." I know what she means; I can feel the heat flooding out of his body. She stands up. "Come, we must take him back to the men's house. Others will follow." 

"Others?" I look down at the young man, then back up. "Is this fever -- " I realize that I don't know the Direma word for "contagious," or if they even have a word for the concept. "Will others get sick?" 

"Oh, yes." Chirigua nods unhappily. "Many others. All we can do is wait for the dying to stop." 

No. I force myself to think this through calmly. "How quickly does the fever spread?" 

"Slowly at first, then more quickly." 

Okay. That's a typical pattern with contagious diseases. It's a place to start. I lay Hamo gently on the floor and stand up. "We have to isolate the first ones to show signs of the fever. The men's house is the largest building. If we keep all the sick people there, we can --" 

Chirigua shakes her head dismissively. "No, Blair. They must be cared for by their families. I have a medicine that helps. I know how to treat them." 

Desperately, I take her arm. "Chirigua, I'm not telling you how to treat them. I know your medicine will help. But if you do what I say, we may be able to keep many of the villagers from becoming ill in the first place." 

She stares at me, then down at Hamo, who's started shivering. After a long moment, she nods. "Yes. We will do as you suggest." 

That's the story of how the Direma got their first hospital. No one is very happy at first to hear that they have to stay away from their families, but after a few days, enough people are sick that they're willing to try anything. 

Soon, I begin to lose track of who's come down with the fever and who hasn't. Chirigua and I seem to spend every waking minute caring for the sick, convincing them to take the foul-tasting medicine. 

The first death comes on the third day, Lerri's older brother. Others follow. Hamo is almost as bad off, but he seems to be hanging on. 

On the fifth day, Mura comes to the door of the hospital. I hurry over to yell at her for being so stupid, but then I see the terror in her eyes. She's got the fever. 

I take her by the hand and lead her to the bed next to Hamo's. He's sleeping, or unconscious. Mura looks over at him with tears streaming down her face. "My man and my baby will both die." She doesn't mention herself, and my heart breaks. 

"No." I pull the blankets up over her. As Chirigua gives her the medicine, I hold her hand. I spend as much time as possible with her over the next few days, and finally, after three days, her fever breaks. 

After that, the number of new cases seems to taper off. There's still no time to rest, but the knowledge that the fever isn't killing as many as usual seems to give most of the patients strength. 

I completely lose track of what day it is, but I finally have time to sit with Mura for a while. Chirigua comes over to check on Hamo. He isn't doing well at all, but I still hope that he'll pull out of it. 

Groaning, I stretch to try to ease the pain in my back. Chirigua looks up at me and frowns. "Blair?" 

I shake my head. Around a huge yawn, I say, "It's nothing, grandmother. My back is sore from sitting, that's all." 

She doesn't look convinced. "I think you should lie down." 

Before I can answer, Mura sighs and opens her eyes. She smiles when she sees me. "Blair." She still looks drawn and wasted, but so much better. "I was thinking about the birds. What -- " Her voice breaks off abruptly, and her eyes widen. 

"What?" I feel panic starting to build up again. "What is it, Mura?" 

Incredibly, she smiles. "My baby...." Taking my hand, she guides it to her stomach. After a moment, I feel a slight kick, then a stronger one. I'm so relieved that my head starts spinning. 

"Blair?" Someone is standing behind me. 

I keep my attention focused on Mura. "See? I told you your baby would be all right...." 

"Blair. Come on, talk to me, buddy." 

It takes me a moment to realize that I'm being addressed in English. There's a hand on my shoulder. I blink slowly as I look up. "Jim? When did you get back? You said you'd be gone a couple of weeks -- " Mura stirs beneath my hand, and I turn back to her. Shifting into Direma again, I tell her, "Go to sleep now. Your father will be pleased." She smiles up at me and snuggles into the blankets, rolling ponderously onto her side, one arm cradled around her swollen womb. I tuck a rolled-up blanket against the small of her back, and she makes a drowsy murmur of appreciation. She reaches across to lay a hand on Hamo's arm, and she leaves it there. She falls asleep with a smile. 

Chirigua comes to stand beside me. Clucking her tongue, she slides a hand under my arm and urges me up. She starts to steer me to a nearby empty bed. "And now, *you* will sleep." 

I look around the makeshift hospital. "There are still things to do...." 

"And they will be done. Later. By someone else." She turns to Jim impatiently. "He must sleep. Make him." 

"Of course, grandmother." Jim looks down at me. "Well, *I* sure don't want to argue with the woman." His voice softens. "You've done a good job here, but it's time you took a break. You need to get to bed. Come on." 

Shaking my head, I say, "I just have a few more things to take care of." I turn around too quickly, and I stumble against Jim's side. Before I know what's happening, I'm hoisted into his arms. I swallow my protest when a wave of dizziness washes over me. Maybe a little sleep isn't such a bad idea. 

"Lay him down here -- " 

Jim stays where he is. "No. He goes with me." 

Chirigua hesitates. "Very well. I will bring the medicine to your hut." I can hear the concern in her voice -- I can't figure out why she'd be worried about me. I've gone a couple days without sleep before, no problem. A long nap is all I need. 

Jim walks out of the hospital. "Come on, Dr. Schweitzer." I can feel the warmth of sunlight on my face, but my eyes hurt too much to open. 

"Well, *this* is dignified," I mumble into Jim's chest. His arms tighten around me. Why won't he just put me down? I can't forget the way we parted, and I don't want to go back to being friends, or whatever the hell we were, until we get all that straightened out. I hear conversations cease as we walk through the village, then start up again, and I wince. Oh, great. No big deal, just Jim carrying Blair off for another "little talk." I guess everyone is getting used to it. "Come on, Jim. Put me down, huh? Please?" 

"I don't think so." 

"You're not listening to me, are you? You never listen to me." Wow. My voice sounds like it's coming out of someone else's mouth. Weird. I *must* be tired. "You know what you are? A bully." 

Jim says patiently, "Yep." 

"Put me *down*, man. I can walk." I try to wriggle free. 

It doesn't do any good. Jim just holds me tighter. "Shhhh. I'll let you walk later, all right?" 

"A *patronizing* bully," I clarify. 

"I know I am. Sorry about that." 

Then I'm being lowered, and I think for a moment that I finally convinced him. But no, we're in our hut and he's laying me on the bed. "No offense, Jim, but I'm really not in the mood right now, 'kay?" 

He sits beside me and puts a cool hand on my forehead. "Me either, actually." 

I shiver as a cold draft blows over me. Figures. First cool breeze since I've been here, and I'm too tired to enjoy it. More than cool though, almost icy.... I start shaking in earnest and I finally catch on. Shit. I was *sure* I wouldn't get the fever. When Chirigua finds out, she'll never let me hear the end of it. 

Alarmed, I open my eyes to look for Jim. He's right next to me, pulling the blanket up around my shoulders. No. He can't be here "Jim...? You've gotta get out of here, man. You can't stay with me." 

"What the hell are you doing?" He stops fussing with the blanket as I weakly try to push him off the bed. When he speaks again, his voice sounds as cold as I feel. "Sandburg, you're sick, for God's sake. I'm not about to -- " 

"Don't want you to catch this, Jim -- " I want to say more, but I can't concentrate enough to figure out how to phrase it. 

A few moments go by. Then a large, gentle hand is pushing my hair back. "I won't catch the fever. Promise." 

I can't keep a few tears from squeezing out from my tightly sealed eyelids. He brushes them away, tenderness in his hands. I wish he wouldn't do that. This is embarrassing enough. "You *will*. Jim, please, just go." 

Jim doesn't answer. He just stretches out beside me on the bed and wraps his arms around me. I can't keep myself from burying my face in his shoulder. The light hurts. Everything hurts. I hear someone coming up to the bed, but I don't care enough to risk the pain that opening my eyes will bring again. 

A strong arm goes around my shoulders, easing me up. I groan in protest. "It's all right. Drink this." He holds a wooden cup to my lips. I drink, not happily. I *told* Chirigua we should find a way to make that taste better. 

Even after the cup is taken away, Jim still holds me cradled in his arms. He loosens my braid and spreads my hair out. The sensation of his fingers massaging my scalp starts to relax me. The sharpest edge of the pain is gone and I'm a little warmer. The dizziness is getting worse, though, and I feel like I've taken four consecutive rides on a rollercoaster. I'm glad Jim's here. If nothing else, he knows how to keep still. As long as he's holding me, I'll know that the world isn't actually spinning.... 

Jim's talking to me, but I can't really pay attention to what he's saying. I'll ask him to repeat it later. Curling into the shelter of his arms, I rest my head against his chest and let the steady rumble of his voice lull me to sleep.   
  


* * *

The next few days don't make much sense to me. I sleep, and wake up, and drink some of that god-awful potion, and sleep some more. Almost every time my eyes open -- every time I so much as turn over or sigh -- Jim is right there. He makes sure I'm covered when I'm cold, and when I'm hot, he gets me something to drink. I know it's selfish, but I'm glad he's got those senses. He seems to know right away when the pain gets worse or the chills start again. And he knows how to hold me, how to touch me, until I can sleep again. 

People come and go. Chirigua is here a lot. Kurali, too. At first I think it's just to coordinate with Jim, letting him know how the hunting is going. But one time Jim is gone when I wake up. Kurali is the one sitting guard over me, and he's the one who makes me drink the medicine. He tells me that Mura is doing well, and the baby is still kicking. I'm glad. It makes up for the ones I lost. 

I finally feel well enough to stay awake for more than a few hours. Jim still won't let me get out of bed for any length of time, though. So we sit together in companionable silence. I'm going through my notes, organizing everything I remember about the progression of the fever and what Chirigua and I did to treat it. Jim sits on a stool beside me. He pretends to be drawing a map of the new hunting territory he's been scouting, and I pretend to not notice that he spends more time keeping an eye on me than anything else. 

We both look up as someone comes into our hut -- Kurali. He gives me a brief nod before turning to Jim. "We must speak, Jim." 

Jim glances at me, then stands up. He puts his notebook on the foot of the bed. "I'll be back in a few minutes, Blair, okay?" 

"Yeah." I don't look up as he walks out to join Kurali. I know what the two of them are talking about. Sighing, I turn back a few pages to the list I'm keeping and make another mark, the fifteenth one. 

About fifteen minutes later, Jim comes back in. "You feel like some supper? Chirigua says it's time you started eating -- " 

I interrupt him. "Who was it?" 

He hesitates, then crosses over to the bed. He sits down beside me. "Hamo." 

I nod and start to write his name at the bottom of the list. But my hand is shaking, and I can't. What's Mura going to do when she finds out? Jim reaches over and carefully takes the pencil from my fingers; closing my notebook, he places it beside his. There's a strange expression on his face that I can't put a name to. I wait for him to say something. When he doesn't, I take a deep breath. "Jim, I'm sorry. I should have been able to do more -- " 

"What are you talking about?" 

I look into his confused face. "We just lost fifteen people. How's the tribe going to be able to manage?" 

Jim stares at me for a long time. When he speaks, his voice is neutral. "Do you know why the scouting party came back early?" He doesn't give me a chance to answer. "This wasn't the only place hit by the fever, Blair. There's another village about ten miles from here. When we got there, it was a ghost town." 

I just sit there and blink. I probably look really stupid. "What?" 

"Blair, we could easily have lost fifty people, not fifteen." I can't stop gaping at him. He explains slowly. I'm too stunned to be insulted. "Kurali tells me that the same fever made the rounds about ten years ago. The mortality rate is usually at *least* fifty percent -- sometimes it wipes out entire families... villages, even." He taps the notebook. "Our mortality rate isn't even twenty percent, and there hasn't been a single new case since we got back." He smiles, and I'm astounded to finally be able to identify the expression I noticed earlier. It's pride. He's proud of *me*. 

"Wow." I sit back. "So that's why Kurali's attitude to me changed?" 

Jim's grin widens. "Well, saving his daughter and grandchild probably didn't hurt." He grows more serious. "You have to realize, Blair -- his wife died in the last epidemic, along with most of his family. Mura was the only one of six children to survive. And Chirigua's making sure that everyone knows it was your ideas that kept the fever from spreading. I think you can stop worrying about not having a place here." 

I shake my head. The idea's too big to assimilate all at once. "So what effect will this have on the plan to move the tribe?" 

"We're delaying it a few months, to see what effect the fever has on the surrounding tribes. It depends on how much they're weakened. We can be pretty sure that they'll all be hit a lot harder than the Direma, so we might be able to establish ourselves in a larger area." 

"Well, that's certainly practical." The words pop out before I think about how they'll sound to Jim. I look up apologetically. "Sorry. I didn't -- " I'm not sure what I didn't mean, so I shut my mouth before I dig myself in any deeper. 

But there's no sign that he's offended. "I know. I feel kind of... ghoulish. But I'm sworn to protect these people. If their enemies are weakened, I've got to take advantage of it." 

"Yeah." I'm a little shocked to realize how much sense that makes to me. I do some math quickly in my head. "So if the death rate is usually around fifty percent, it'll be what, at least a generation before they'll be any kind of a threat?" 

"Something like that." If Jim's surprised at the turn my thoughts are taking, he manages to hide it. He takes a quick look out the window, checking the height of the sun. "It's time for -- " 

"Oh, man. I was hoping if I kept you talking long enough, you'd forget about the medicine." But I take the cup he holds out and drink it down. Making myself comfortable, I wait for the drowsiness to take hold. "How much longer do I have to take this stuff?" 

Jim smiles as he puts the cup back on the table. "Two more days, probably. Chirigua said you had a fever for four days, so you have to take the medicine for four days after it broke." 

I yawn. "The woman's just punishing me for talking back to her, isn't she?" 

"Probably." He looks at me, then stands up. "I'll get out of your hair, let you get some rest -- " 

"Wait." I put a hand out. My fingertips barely brush against his arm, but he stops immediately. My brain's starting to go fuzzy around the edges again. Trying to think straight, I say, "Look, Jim, I want to say -- before you left, I didn't mean...." 

After a moment, he sits down beside me again. Bending over me, he pushes my hair back. I try to keep my eyes open as he speaks. "I know. I didn't either. It's just -- I couldn't just let you go off and hope that whatever tribe you ended up with would get you back to civilization." I let my eyes slip shut as he strokes my hair. "There's no telling where Vaughan ended up, no telling what he might have led you into...." Jim's voice trails off. 

"*Vaughan*? I wouldn't cross the street with that schmuck, let alone go wandering around the jungle with him." I yawn again. 

"I thought -- " I can hear the shock in Jim's voice. It's not easy, but I open my eyes. Jim's staring at me and he seems to have trouble speaking. He finally says, "You weren't planning on going after him?" It's too much work to answer in words, so I just shake my head. After a moment, he says, "Blair, I'm sorry." 

" 'Sall right...." Someone calls Jim from outside the hut. "We'll talk later, 'kay?" 

"Okay." He caresses my face gently before walking away. Burrowing beneath the blankets, I listen to the bustle of the village \-- it seems louder than usual, but that might just be my headache \-- and watch the shadows lengthen on the floor. I drowse a little, but I don't think I ever actually fall asleep. 

At any rate, I'm awake when Jim comes back inside a while later. I prop myself up on my elbows. "Hey." 

"How are you feeling?" He sits beside me and puts a hand on my forehead. 

"I think I'm hungry," I say in surprise. 

Jim looks pleased. "Good. Things have been a little hectic, but we can probably find you something." 

"As long as it doesn't taste like any kind of herb." Nodding toward the window, I ask, "Was there anything going on out there? Seemed pretty busy." 

"Uh-huh." Jim leans back and grins. "Mura had her baby." 

My heart lurches. "Oh, geez, man, she's still early. I've got to go see her -- " I shove the blankets aside and start to get out of bed. 

"Whoa!" Jim moves faster than I do. Pressing me back, he says, "First of all, Chirigua says she's doing fine. Second, she's not allowed to see any men for five days. Third, you're not going anywhere yet." He scoops my legs up and swings them back on the bed. As he pulls the blanket up, he adds, "It's a boy -- kind of small, but healthy. Kurali's thrilled. He says it's an omen that the tribe will regain its strength quickly." 

"Yeah." I know I'm grinning like an idiot, but I don't mind. "I should start keeping track of the birthrate -- I wonder if Chirigua remembers what happened after the last epidemic? If we can get some kind of idea on whether or not there were more babies born, I can probably work up an estimate of how soon -- " 

Jim catches my wrist as I reach for my notebook. "Later, okay? I don't want you getting too tired." 

At first I feel like arguing just for the sake of it, but there's something about the way Jim's holding my arm that stops me. While I was sick, even though his touch was attentive and caring and even affectionate, there was still a kind of distance. But now \-- it's like the way he used to touch me before that fight we had. I look up at him, not quite sure what I should say. I'm not so sure I should say anything. 

His free hand starts playing with my hair, twisting the long strands around his fingers. I'd forgotten how much I missed that. "Remember the day I came back? You told me I never listen to you." 

Jim smiles at me, but it's a sad smile. "That's not really true. When I was walking away... I was listening to your heartbeat. Kept on hearing it, or imagining I was hearing it, for hours -- practically the whole time I was gone. Somehow, it felt like... I was sensing your presence, like I was tuned into you." He looks away, then back. His face is simultaneously bleak and apologetic. "I really don't think I can describe what it felt like. But I couldn't stop wondering if it'd still be here when I got back, if maybe you'd decide that Vaughan had the right idea." 

"You were afraid I'd leave while you were gone?" Well, *that* explains a few things. "Jim, nowhere *near* stupid enough to think I could handle myself out there by myself. Besides -- " I almost don't say it. I know it's going to come out sounding weird. But I take a deep breath and blurt it out anyway. "Everything else aside, Jim, we're... well, we're friends. I wouldn't just take off." 

Jim hesitantly pulls me closer. I don't resist; in fact, I wrap my arms around him. Maybe it's just because I need someone to hold onto. Maybe it's because he needs someone, too. Or maybe, I think as he pushes my blanket away, it's because *if* I were to let myself, it'd be so easy to fall in love with him. 

But I'm not sure if that's something either of us is brave enough to do. Better if we stay friends, and lovers, and try to keep our hearts out of it.   
  


* * *

Life in the village starts to get back to normal. Jim sends out regular scouting parties to the edges of the Direma territory, looking for any signs of activity by other tribes. There isn't much, and the scouts say they think the wildlife population is increasing slightly. That means there isn't much hunting being done around us. Everyone celebrates when they hear that. I don't quite join in, but I don't have the heart to disapprove, either. 

As for me and Jim... well, I'm not sure if "getting back to normal" means that much for us, but we seem to be doing it. We're friends again, and lovers, and we carefully avoid any discussion of what'll happen when the tribe is resettled and we have to think about me leaving. 

It takes a lot of nagging, but I finally get Jim to confirm what Chirigua told me about his senses. He's astonished that I've actually read something about it, that there have been other people like him. He thought he was just a freak. 

The Direma have finally accepted me as something other than Jim's bedmate. Once Chirigua decides that I'm well enough, she started teaching me what she knows. And she knows a lot... it's all I can do to keep up with what she tells me. 

Kurali and I aren't really friends. But instead of treating me like a rock or a tree, he treats me like a slightly deranged child. Hey, it's an improvement, right? Besides, he has to be nice to me because of Mura and the baby. I'm kind of the godfather. 

Man, *that* blew me away. On the first day she was allowed out of seclusion, she walked up to where I was sitting outside Chirigua's hut. She knelt beside me and placed her son in my arms and told that since Hamo was dead, she wanted me to choose the baby's name. 

Fortunately, Direma babies aren't named until they're four moons old. I've got about a month to go, which is a good thing. What do I know about their naming practices? I don't want to give the kid a stupid name, one that'll make him stand out. I keep on running names by Jim because he's been here so much longer, but he hasn't been a lot of help. "You'll think of something, Blair." That's what he keeps telling me. It's nice that he has that kind of faith in me, but what if I end up giving the baby the Direma equivalent of Melvin or Seymour? 

Jim and I were discussing it again this morning before he left. He's taking most of the warriors on a final scouting trip to the southern reaches of the new hunting ground. Kurali isn't happy about splitting the tribe's strength that much, but Jim managed to convince him that it'd be better to make one huge sweep to establish our presence. 

They left a few hours ago. Mura and I are in a clearing on the east side of the village. We're supposed to be gathering some more herbs for Chirigua, but we're too busy placing bets on whether or not the baby will manage to fit his entire hand in his mouth. 

"Hah!" I scoop up the baby triumphantly. "I told you he could do it." He gives me a goggle-eyed stare, then smiles. Shifting him to one arm, I pull the herb basket over to Mura. 

She starts putting the cut plants into it. "Have you decided on a name yet?" 

I grimace. She knows that I haven't, that I'm not even close. "It's a very serious matter... ouch." Somehow, the baby manages to grab my braid in both hands and he yanks. Hard. "You should be very proud -- he's strong." 

Mura puts down the basket and reaches for her son. "That is why you should cut your hair." She's not smiling, but her eyes twinkle as she untangles my hair from the baby's hands. He squawks in protest. "Your life will be much easier." 

"If I cut my hair, how will anyone recognize me? And besides --" 

Chirigua walks up to us. "And besides, Jim would miss it." 

Mura tries to hide her grin from the old woman, but not from me. "He would miss it very much." 

I give them both a stony glare. They're equally indifferent to it, and I let it drop after a few seconds. I guess there was no way the rest of the tribe could miss the way Jim keeps touching my hair. And it's kind of nice to have people who care enough to tease me.... 

The baby starts fussing, and with a promise to return in a few minutes, Mura takes him back to the village. Chirigua carefully lowers herself to the ground beside me. "Are you well, Blair? Are you healthy?" 

"Very healthy, grandmother," I answer. "I'm over the fever." 

"Good. Are you happy here?" 

That's not as easy a question. She waits patiently while I think it over. When I don't answer after a minute or so, she asks quietly, "Do people treat you kindly here?" 

I have to be honest with her -- I owe her that much. "Yes, they do." 

She nods. "And does Jim treat you well?" I stare at the ground and don't answer. If she's irritated by that, there's no sign of it in her voice. "What do you want that you do not have here?" 

"Why do you ask so many questions, grandmother?" 

"Because you have so many answers, and you have never been reluctant to share them." It's kind of hard to keep from smiling at that. She goes on, "Either you are happy or you are not, Blair. You must decide." 

"It's hard, Chirigua. I miss my friends. I miss my mother... she thinks I'm dead." 

"I know." I look up, surprised. Her voice is gentler than it's ever been. "But either a child loses a mother or a mother loses a child. One must happen." 

"You make it sound so easy -- " We both look up at the same instant, hearing something in the underbrush. No birdsong, no animal noises, nothing... damn. 

I look at Chirigua uneasily as I get to my feet. "How many sentries are posted on this end of the village?" I help her stand up. 

"There should be two. Come." She turns decisively back toward the village. 

"Good to see you again, Sandburg." Oh, God. No. I turn around slowly. Vaughan is standing there, holding a gun. There's another man with him, someone I've never seen. He's cleaning off a knife; it leaves a bloody smear on his pants as he puts it back in its sheath. 

Vaughan starts walking over to us, and I push Chirigua behind me. "Go back to the village, grandmother, tell everyone to stay away. They won't hurt me." 

"Yes, child, they will," she says calmly. "And they will kill me." She stays where she is. 

Vaughan stops about three feet away from us. The other follows. "I told you I'd be back for you, Blair." He looks me up and down. "I see your... *protector* has been taking good care of you." 

I look warily at the two men. I wish I'd been able to learn more about fighting, at least for Chirigua's sake. "What do you want, Vaughan?" 

"You," he says simply. He reaches for me. Chirigua puts an arm around my waist. Almost casually, Vaughan raises his gun and shoots her. 

"NO!" I catch her as her knees buckle. Lowering her to the ground, I cradle the frail body in my arms. "Grandmother...?" She looks up at me, weakly lifts a hand to my cheek, tries to smile... and I watch her eyes go flat and dead. 

Vaughan and the stranger grab me and press me to the ground. I try to struggle as they tie my hands behind my back, but it doesn't do any good. I want to scream, to cry out a warning, but I don't. When the tribe hears the gunshot, they'll know what happened. They'll know enough to keep out of sight. 

Wrapping my braid around his fist, Vaughan yanks me to my knees. He stands over me. "Well, here you are, Blair. Tied up and helpless. That *is* the way to your heart, isn't it?" 

Vaughan waits for an answer. When I just stare at the ground in front of me, he sighs unhappily. "Luis? Help me convince the young man, would you?" The other man puts the barrel of the gun to my head. Pulling a long knife out of a sheath, Vaughan lays the blade against my throat. "Feeling more talkative now?" 

"Go to hell." I can see Chirigua's body out of the corner of my eye. 

"Maybe later. Right now -- " The knife flashes, and I feel the cold steel on the nape of my neck. I fall forward, unbalanced... it takes me a moment to realize that the knife slashed through my braid, not my flesh. Vaughan continues. "Right now, I have plans for you." He tosses my braid aside, and it lands next to Chirigua's body. 

My body tenses as I hear a noise coming from the direction of the village. The stranger hears it too; as he turns toward the sound, he raises his gun. Oh, God, what if it's Mura coming back? Swinging my legs around, I manage to connect with the gunman's shins -- not as hard as I'd like, but it's enough to distract him. He turns on me. "Bastard!" Enraged, he swings his gun up, like he's going to club me. 

"Luis. That's enough." Luis plainly isn't happy, but he slowly lowers the gun. His eyes remain focused toward the village. Hunkering down, Vaughan wraps his hands in my shirt and yanks me back to my knees. He twists one hand in my hair and pulls my head back. "You're probably thinking that the Direma have me and Luis here outnumbered. You're right. But *we* know that most of the fighters are gone. Furthermore, we have automatic weapons. We've already killed two men and the old woman. How many more of your friends do you want to watch die trying to save you? How many of their lives are you worth?" 

The serenity in Vaughan's voice frightens me more than the madness in his eyes. Still sounding like he's debating some abstract academic question, he continues. "Here's the deal, Blair. It's a lot better than the one Ellison offered you. You come with me -- tell them not to follow, not to try some kind of rescue -- and I'll let them all live. What do you say? Is that a bargain or what?" He smiles at me. 

I stare at him. My head spins as I try to calculate the distance -- the warriors left about three hours ago. How far away are they? Jim said the last time he was gone, he heard my heartbeat for hours, he *must* be able to hear a gunshot. That'll bring the scouting party hurrying back, so say they get back to the village in about two hours, maybe a little more. Or less -- if they're scouting, it won't be a straight march. They're probably not a full three hours away. They'd have to stop frequently, examine animal trails, whatever. 

At any rate, *if* Jim heard the gun, he's already on his way back. If I can manage to slow Vaughan and Luis down, there's a very good chance that Jim will be able to catch up -- 

"Well?" Vaughan trails the knife's tip along my lips. "It's up to you, Blair. You were willing to prostitute yourself to save just your life and mine. I have to confess, I'm *very* interested in finding out what you're willing to do to save an entire village." 

"... How do I know I can trust you?" 

Vaughan shrugs casually. "You don't." He slides the knife down, the blade finally coming to rest at the hollow of my throat. "What was it that made you trust Ellison?" 

I guess this isn't the time to point out that Jim wasn't a raving psycho. There's no more time to think. I've got to gamble on Jim's hearing. Closing my eyes, I call out in Direma. "Stay where you are. They only want me. Tell Jim -- " 

As I speak Jim's name, Vaughan pulls back on my hair again, cutting me off. The knife presses into my throat and I feel a quick, sharp pain. A thread of blood trickles down to my chest. Vaughan puts his lips to my ears and hisses, "Ellison doesn't exist for you any more. Every time you say his name, I'll cut you until you figure that out. Do you understand me?" I nod, and he shakes his head sadly. "*Answer* me, Blair." The knife starts to press in again. 

"I... understand." 

"Good boy." Vaughan takes the knife away . I can't help shuddering as he lowers his mouth to my throat, lapping at my blood. Luis stands over us, keeping an eye out for any movement from the Direma. 

Then I'm being jerked to my feet. Keeping one hand locked around my arm, Vaughan stares down at Chirigua's body. He nudges my chopped-off braid with the toe of his boot. "Maybe I should have left this. It'd be so handy to hold onto. Oh, well." He looks at me cheerfully. "Improvisation *is* the cornerstone of a successful expedition, isn't it?" 

Stripping off his belt, he loops it around my neck and tightens it. I force myself to meet his eyes as he slowly pulls me closer. Patting my cheek, he croons, "Just until you get used to belonging to *me*. It won't take long, I promise." 

Four hours, I think as he pulls me away from the village. I manage one last, hurried glance at Chirigua's body. I've got to last at least four hours. That'll get us a safe distance from the village, give Jim time to catch up and save me. 

And if he can't save me, it'll give him time to avenge me.   
  


* * *

I stumble again and fall. Cursing, Vaughan yanks hard on the belt. It doesn't do any good, because this time, I'm not faking. I really can't get up. 

About an hour ago, I tripped over a rock and twisted my ankle. Walking is rapidly becoming impossible. Under normal circumstances that wouldn't be a good thing. Now, I'm thrilled. Unless they decide to just kill me (which, judging by the glares that Luis has been giving me, is a distinct possibility), they're going to have to carry me or stay here. That gives Jim more time. 

"What now?" Dropping the end of the belt, Vaughan squats by my side as Luis stands guard over us. He grabs my ankle roughly and examines my foot. I grit my teeth to keep from crying out. He prods at my swollen ankle, and I can't help drawing in a sharp breath. 

Vaughan glares at me. "What the hell are you trying to pull?" 

"Damn, man, you caught me. I'm making my ankle swell up through sheer force of will -- " I try to brace myself for Vaughan's slap; it doesn't help. He still knocks me flat. It's not easy with my hands still tied behind my back, but I force myself to struggle upright immediately. No way I'm going to make this easy on him. I look upward, hoping for a glimpse of the sun to help me judge how much time has passed, but there are too many branches overhead. 

Doesn't matter. Jim is coming, I know he is. I can feel him somehow, an indefinable sense of pressure building up at the base of my skull. Or it might be the first sign of a stroke. I'd rather believe it's Jim, and I wonder if he can feel me as well. Maybe this is what he was talking about -- 

I come back to my surroundings with a start as Vaughan slowly runs his hand along the inside of my calf. "I wanted to wait until we got back to my camp, but...." I try to edge away, but he's holding the belt again. He yanks it hard, cutting off my air for a few seconds. My vision starts to blur. 

Smiling, he eases the pressure. As I wheeze for breath, he looks up at Luis. "Why don't you relax for a few minutes? I think Blair and I need to have ourselves a... discussion." 

Luis shrugs. "Don't take too long. I don't want to be out here after dark." He leans against a tree and watches us dispassionately. 

"Oh, don't worry. I'm sure it won't take long to make my point." Vaughan turns his attention back to me. I try to avoid his hand, but there's not enough slack in the belt. His fingers stroke the side of my face, slide down to cup my jaw.... Without any change in expression, he abruptly shoves me down to the ground. 

He straddles my body. I can feel his erection pressing against my stomach.... I force myself to not panic. Panicking won't help. 

Leaning forward, Vaughan takes out his knife. His voice is calm again. "So, Blair, tell me something." He uses the knife to cut away my shirt. I concentrate on breathing and listening to the jungle. "What exactly does Ellison do to you?" I feel the cold metal circling first one nipple, then the other. "I assume he fucks you. I *know* he fucks you. What I want to know is how he does it. Does he grease himself up first, or does he just -- " 

He thrusts the knife into the ground next to my ear. Bracing his hands on either side of my head, he leans close. "Or does he just take you, hard and dry? Does he like to make you bleed and scream?" I stare through him. He's not here, I'm just looking up at the trees. 

My inattention doesn't seem to bother Vaughan in the least. He starts rhythmically thrusting his crotch against me. His voice drops to a whisper; oddly enough, that makes it harder to ignore. "Does he like to tie you down? Maybe that's how *you* like it, hmmm? Is that it? Face down on the bed, your arms and legs stretched out as far as they can go, that sweet ass of yours naked and vulnerable. Maybe he likes to whip you first. Has he ever done that to you?" 

I can't keep a whimper from escaping my lips as his thrusts speed up. I hear a sound over to my left, then another above my head. Desperate for any distraction, I look around just as Luis topples to the ground. It takes my brain a moment to register the arrow that's piercing his neck. 

Rolling over and pulling me along with him, Vaughan puts his back against the tree. Holding me against his chest, he grabs the knife. I feel the blade digging into my neck again. I can also feel his erection against the small of my back, but it's rapidly fading. Thank heaven for small favors. 

"Ellison?" Vaughan calls out. "Come on out, Ellison." There's not a hint of movement anywhere around us. The arm around my chest tightens. "Waiting to see how much your toy can bleed, Ellison?" 

Jim steps out from behind a tree. He's holding his bow, an arrow aimed directly at Vaughan's forehead. I let my eyes close in agonized relief. One way or another, Jim won't let anything happen to me. 

Vaughan laughs. "I didn't think you'd actually make it." His voice turns cold. "Your bow. Drop it." 

Opening my eyes, I stare at Jim. He returns my gaze. The bow stays where it is. 

"I mean it." Vaughan cuts me -- not deep, but enough to hurt and bleed. "Think you can get me before I slit his throat?" Jim's aim wavers. 

Despair washes over me again. "Jim -- do it. Shoot him." Or me, I silently beg. Jim's still staring into my eyes. Slowly, he lowers the bow. I feel like crying. 

"What's the matter, Blair? You seem upset. Are you trying to tell me that you've changed your mind? *Now* death before dishonor sounds like a good idea?" Vaughan's breath is hot against my cheek as he forces my head back, making me break eye contact with Jim. 

I swallow hard. "Anything's better than being touched by you." I close my eyes and I wait. 

Vaughan's body twitches against me. I barely have time to feel it before I'm being jerked forward and up. I struggle briefly, torn between terror and confusion... and then I realize that the arms around me are Jim's arms, and the voice in my ear is Jim's voice. 

I hear gurgling, rasping breathing behind me, and it occurs to me that we really should be worried about what Vaughan is going to do next. I try to turn around but Jim holds me where I am. "It's all right," he murmurs. Then the gurgling stops. 

Someone comes to stand beside us -- Kurali. He looks me over, gives me a sharp nod, and walks away in the direction of the village. 

"Kurali?" I can't see around Jim's shoulder, and I'm too tired to move, but I hear Kurali stop. I know he's listening. "Thank you." 

"What else could I do? My grandchild needs a name." He says it as if it's the most obvious reason in the world. He starts walking again. 

Jim's arms loosen slightly. If I wanted to, I could turn around now. I don't want to anymore. I finally start trembling as I bury my head against Jim's shoulder. "I could feel you. I could feel you coming." I want to put my arms around him as he cuts the rope binding my wrists, but they hurt too much with the returning circulation. "He killed her. He killed them." 

"I know. I saw. When we got back to the village, Mura told us everything." Jim's voice is a soft, soothing rumble. I want to drown in it. He lifts a hand to my head and starts running his fingers through what's left of my hair. I close my eyes and lean against him. "Blair, I'm so sorry." 

"He was going to -- was anyone else in the village hurt?" Part of me is aware that my thoughts are becoming disconnected. I'm probably in shock. Most of me doesn't give a damn. There'll be time to sort everything out later, when we're back home. 

"No." Keeping me from looking back at Vaughan, Jim urges me in the direction Kurali went. I take a step, and my leg buckles under me. Jim scoops me up without breaking his stride. 

I don't even consider fighting him, even though I know how tired he's going to get if he carries me the entire way. "You'll let me walk later?" 

"Later," he agrees. 

Nodding, I close my eyes and do my best not to think. There's no way I'll ever be able to forget what Vaughan did, what he was going to do, but I want to postpone remembering for a little while longer. 

I drift in and out of sleep, or maybe consciousness, during the long walk back to the village. By the time we get there, Kurali's already told everyone that I'm coming back. It's almost dark. The funeral ceremonies have already begun for Chirigua and the others. Even so, I'm aware of a few people breaking away from the group as Jim and I approach. 

A small hand brushes against my hair. "Oh, Blair, I should not have said it." There are tears in Mura's voice. I know it's not my hair that she's mourning. 

Blindly, I reach up to cover her hand with my own. "Don't worry. It grows quickly, remember?" 

No one tries to stop us as Jim carries me into our hut. As he opens the door, my eyes focus for a moment on the symbol carved in the doorpost. 

Setting me down on our bed, Jim kneels at my feet. He runs his fingers over my ankle as carefully as he can. That's nice of him, but it doesn't really matter right now. Oh, I can feel the pain, but I can't bring myself to care about it. 

He looks up at me. "I can't feel anything broken. I'm going to bandage it now, all right?" 

It takes me a few moments to realize that he's waiting for me to answer. "Yeah. Yeah, okay." 

As he works, I stare down at his swiftly-moving hands. He's good at this, and I remember that he said he was trained as a medic. When he's finished with my ankle, he sits beside me on the bed. Lifting a hand to the two cuts on my neck, he says, "I've got some salve -- " 

"No." I knock his hand away. 

"Blair, they're not deep, but they might leave scars. Let me take care of them." His voice is as dark and soothing as night. 

I shake my head. "Leave them alone. It was my fault, wasn't it?" 

Somehow, Jim's not confused by this. "It was *not* your fault. It was Vaughan's fault, no one else's." 

Resting my elbows on my knees, I put my head in my hands. How can I believe him? "He came back for me. I let it go on too long. If I'd said something sooner, it might not have -- maybe he would have been able to let it go, forget about me. I should have done *something* to confront him -- " 

Jim interrupts me. "Blair. The man was insane. If you'd done anything to confront him while he was still in the village, he probably would have turned on you right then. He only bothered you when you were alone, so there wouldn't have been anyone to stop him from...." 

A large hand lifts to caress the back of my neck. "When I heard the gunshot, when I found out he'd taken you -- God, Blair, when I thought I'd lost you...." Jim's voice breaks. Going purely on instinct, I turn into his arms. I'm not aware of either of us lying down, but we end up stretched on the bed, arms wrapped around each other, hands stroking each other's flesh. We spend the night that way, listening to the chants from outside. Neither of us seeks either sleep or climax. Our mutual goal is simply to give and receive comfort. And we both succeed.   
  


* * *

"Blair?" Jim kneels beside me. "Everyone's ready to go." 

I nod. "Almost done here." I glance over at him. He's not looking at me. He's staring up at the platform holding what's left of Chirigua's body... something I've been trying not to do. I know how I want to remember her. I return my attention to the ground and continue sprinkling dirt over the seeds I just planted. As fast as things grow here, the flowers should be blooming by the time her body's been consumed by animals. The flowers will bloom, and die, and come back. Something of her spirit will always be here. 

Jim gets up and takes a step back, hovering over me protectively. He still feels guilty -- not just about Chirigua and the others, but about what almost happened to me. I can tell that he keeps replaying what went down, wondering if there was something he could have prevented it. I wish there had been. I'd give anything if I could fix what happened, go back in time somehow... but I can't. All I can do -- all *we* can do -- is deal with the way things worked out. 

I know he's been wanting to talk. But what with tending to the dead, and getting the tribe ready to move, there just hasn't been time. I don't mind. It gave me a chance to think and get some things taken care of. Jim's been gone a lot, scouting the trail ahead, making sure no one's thinking of moving into our new territory. We usually fall into bed halfway to morning, and rather than making love or talking he just wraps his arms around me, like he's trying to absorb my soul into his. 

After a moment's thought, I take the ankh from around my neck, stand up carefully, and fasten the chain around one of the platform's legs. I turn around as quickly as I can -- even though it's still slightly sore, my ankle can support my weight again -- and wipe my hands on my shirt. "Okay. I'm ready." As we walk back to our hut, Jim puts an arm around my shoulders. I wince slightly and he starts to pull his arm away. I reach up to put my hand over his. "No, Jim, it's not -- my shoulder's a little sore, is all." 

He stops and turns me around to face him. "Damn it, Sandburg. You told me you weren't hurt!" Without waiting for an answer, he pulls my shirt away. What he sees makes his face go utterly still. He stares at me, speechless; then, moving slowly, he reaches over and traces a single finger around the new tattoo on my left shoulder. Three horizontal black lines with a dot beneath them. His mark. 

I shrug and look down at my shoulder. "It's healing pretty well. No sign of infection. And hey, it put Kurali in a *great* mood. Now he knows exactly where I fit in." 

Jim doesn't answer. Still shocked, I guess. Sighing, I take his hand and start walking again. He follows along, still not saying anything. "Okay, Jim, I guess we're going to discuss this, aren't we?" Releasing him, I pause at the entrance to our hut; I brush my fingers across the symbol carved into the doorpost. Jim doesn't say anything. As I step inside the hut I can feel him at my back. 

Our belongings are piled by the door, ready to go. His weapons, the few mementos from the helicopter crash, what's left of my clothes and my notes, and the medicines I gathered from Chirigua's hut. Funny. I lived most of my life as a nomad, but there were always things I regretted leaving behind. This time, there's nothing left here that I'll miss. Everything that I need is going with me. 

Finally shaking himself back to life, Jim turns on me. "Blair, what the hell were you *thinking*? How are you planning on explaining that tattoo once I -- " He stops talking and stares at the wall. His face is expressionless, but I can read the anguish in his crystalline eyes. 

"Once you get me back to civilization," I finish quietly. "Well, that's going to be a while, isn't it?" He opens his mouth to argue. This time, I have no intention of letting him. "Look. You've got to make sure the tribe is established before you even *think* about leaving them for long enough to get me out of the jungle, right? I mean, we'd have to cross enemy territory, so we'd need at least a few warriors with us -- which would leave the rest of the tribe undefended, wouldn't it?" 

Jim doesn't answer, but I know he's listening. He remembers what happened the last time he divided the tribe's strength. I continue. "And what if someone gets sick? I'm not much of a healer, but I'm better than nothing. Until I can teach someone else what I know, how can I leave?" 

It's hard to tell, but I think I'm making progress. "Then there's your senses. Same as with the healing. I don't know much, but I'm better than nothing. If we work on it, I really think I can help you get more control over them." I don't want to bring up the fact that if he can get me out of the jungle, he can get himself out. If he guides me back to civilization and then returns to the tribe, he won't be AWOL, he'll be a deserter. I'll save that for later, if nothing else works. 

It may not come to that, though. His face remains closed, but a little of the tension has left his body. I take a deep breath. Now comes the hard part, the real reason I can't go back. I walk over to Jim and turn him around. More quietly, I say, "And besides... I don't want to leave *you*. I love you." There. Wasn't as hard to say as I thought. 

Jim stares down at me. His face is still empty, but I know what's behind it now. He's not that hard to read. He says, "No. No... Blair, you just --" He looks away. "You need me, you need my protection, you just -- look, I don't blame you for trying to make the best of -- " 

I was expecting this. "Trust me on this one, Jim, it stopped being about dependence or sex or whatever a while ago. As soon as I figured out how goddamn *annoying* you are, I knew it had to be love. I wouldn't put up with you otherwise." 

He's shaking his head slowly, too stunned to rise to the bait. "You don't know what you're saying. There's nothing here for you. You have a *life*, Blair." 

"Yeah. And it's here with you." This is getting us nowhere. I put my hand on his chest. "Jim. *Listen* to me, man. I have your mark now. That means I belong to you. We belong to each other. Only difference is, everyone can see your mark on me. My mark on you... well, that's our business. And we can worry about the future once it gets here." 

I start to step away -- maybe he needs some time to think about this. But Jim pulls me back. Gently grasping my wrist, he presses my hand to his chest again, right over his heart. "*This* is where your mark is." There's nothing to say to that. All I can do is stare into his eyes. 

He returns my gaze, reluctant hope in his eyes. "What about your friends? Your mother?" 

A quick pain stabs through my heart. I guess he feels it, because he holds me a little closer. "I guess there's not much chance that Vaughan was considerate enough to try to send word to her.... That's going to be hard, Jim. But it's something I'll have to learn to live with." 

Jim slowly runs his fingers through what's left of my hair. I keep telling him what I tell Mura, that it'll grow back. The fingertips of his other hand skim along my eyebrows, down my jaw, finally cupping the side of my face. "You want to stay here, with me? You mean that?" It's not really as much a question as it is a plea. 

Nodding, I wrap my arms around his waist. "Yes. If... you want me." 

"I do." And with those simple words, he bends his head down and kisses me. And that's the only pledge either of us needs.   
  


* * *

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